good time for a change
by beware of trips
Summary: She's baiting him. He knows she's baiting him and she knows she's baiting him and he has every reason to ignore her but her hair makes him think of summer and coconut cream pie and warmth and he can't bear to not pay her any mind. Even when - especially when - her hair is just inches from his face and all he wants to do is bury himself in it.


She storms unapologetically into class thirty seconds after the bell rings. Her heavy boots clomp against the linoleum and when she slides into her seat in front of him, her backpack falls to the ground with a thump. Miss Haggly raises an eyebrow, but makes no attempt to mark her as tardy.

"Sorry," she mutters under her breath and that seems to be enough for the teacher to forgive her and look away.

Hal's heart sinks as he realizes it's not a good day. Fridays were almost always good days. The kind of days she'd be all smiles and spend half the period perched sideways in her seat so she could whisper back at him every bit of nonsense running through her head. From Miss Haggly's runny stockings to why diagramming sentences was a waste of time to did he think Lord Byron was as much of a hack as she did?

Today though, Alice leans over her desk and starts scribbling in her notebook, her hair falling over her face and obscuring any view of her he may have had. No smile, no greeting, no warmth.

It's the sunniest day of spring so far, but Alice Smith is a thundercloud. Slowly but surely, he feels her bad mood roll right on to him.

He tries to shake the thought away. Her life doesn't revolve around making him smile in third period honors English afterall. Maybe she just has homework to finish. Or maybe she was sick of whatever little game they'd been playing these last few months. Perhaps what he'd mistaken for flirting was no more than pity.

She cracks a piece of gum as the lecture starts. Her one leg is crossed over the other and the lace of her boot is untied, just dangling there like a striped safety hazard. Her other boot isn't doubled knotted either, something his mother would consider no less than a cardinal sin. The perfect conversation starter comes to him.

His hand travels to her shoulder and hovers an inch away. Despite the warm day, her jacket is still on - black leather with that logo that makes his heart speed up and his throat close up - so he knows a light poke won't do it. He rehearses what to say in his head.

My mom says you should always double knot your shoes.

Your laces are untied.

Do you want to go to Hiram's party with me on Saturday?

He cringes at his own thoughts and puts his hand down. Not today.

As if she'd heard his stupidity, her head turns to the side and she clicks her tongue. Her skirt rides up ever so slightly as she pulls her foot up to tie her lace. Her eyes dart quickly to him, but he looks down at his desk before she says anything, concentrating on the nothingness there and wishing he'd at least pulled out a book.

He doesn't dare look back up until he feels her turn forward in her seat again. She doesn't hunch over her desk this time. Instead, she sits straight and starts rolling her shoulders back and forth, as if they were sore. Her hands run under her hair and, without warning, she pulls it out from where it's tucked behind her back and lets it cascade over his desk.

Maybe he was wrong.

Alice's head is half turned towards him under the guise of listening to their teacher talk about Hamlet. Each time she nods along to the lecture, her hair moves on his desk and the smell of her vanilla coconut shampoo fills his nose. He pulls out his book and when some of her hair falls off his desk, she readjusts so it's back in his way again. Sun drenched blonde curls everywhere.

She's baiting him. He knows she's baiting him and she knows she's baiting him and he has every reason to ignore her but her hair makes him think of summer and coconut cream pie and warmth and he can't bear to not pay her any mind. Even when - especially when - her hair is just inches from his face and all he wants to do is bury himself in it.

He imagines a more suave version of himself - a version like Fred Andrews perhaps - that would collect her hair and place it neatly over her shoulder and whisper something in her ear that would cover her in goosebumps. A version of himself that doesn't exist because he can't even manage to tell Alice her shoes are untied, much less that he likes her, loves her, has the hots for -

"What's got your goat, Coop?"

Alice's soft voice pulls him out of his daze. Her head is practically resting on his desk, covering his book entirely, as she looks at him upside down. A grin plays at the corner of her lips but she regards him cooly. He thinks of how to describe her expression, her voice, her tone to his friends later, but knows it'll be for naught. They tell him the same thing each time. Hiram says she's flirting - "She sees that V-card pinned to your sweater vest and she sees a fun little challenge." - Penelope says she's teasing - "Girls like that only like one kind of boy and I for one am glad that type isn't you." - and his sister rolls her eyes and tell him to shit or get off the pot.

"If my hair is in your way," Alice picks her head up and turns in her seat so her elbow is resting on his desk, "you can just shove it off you know."

His mouth is dry and he thinks about asking her for a piece of gum. Instead, he just shrugs. Very smooth.

"You look like you're in a bad mood." Her eyes dart to the window, but she doesn't move her head. "This seems like exactly the kind of day you'd love. Sunny, bright." Her eyes travel back to him and for a second, he swears she checking out his arms. It's the first time he's worn short sleeves since fall. When she meets his eyes again, she's smirking. "Like you. A Cooper kind of day."

"It's nice out," he says lamely. "But you know, I like - I like other days too. Rainy days, snowy days. All that."

"Are you trying to tell me you're not all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows?" Her smirk widens to an actual smile. "You're funny, Coop."

His heart skips a beat every time she calls him by the stupid nickname FP dubbed him in seventh grade. "I am the least funny person in the world."

Her nose scrunches up in a way that makes his legs turn to jelly and she lets out a laugh that draws the attention of everyone around them.

Their teacher clears her throat and, with a hand on her hip, calls to them, "Miss Smith, Mr. Cooper. Is there something you two want to share with the rest of the class? Ophelia's death always gets me down, I could use a good laugh too."

Alice winks at him before turning around in her seat. "No, Miss Haggly. Hal was just telling me to be quiet."

Miss Haggly nods and turns back to the rest of the class. Hal drums his fingers against his desk for a few seconds before leaning forward. Alice turns her head at the same moment and he almost swallows a mouthful of her hair.

"Saturday -"

"You're not -"

They both smile and Miss Haggly shushes them. Alice turns forward in her seat and Hal whispers, "You first."

She plays with the pen in her hand as she stares straight ahead at the blackboard. "I know it's not your scene, but Hiram told me he was throwing some big party tomorrow."

Hal holds his breath. "Uh huh."

Alice chuckles and shakes her head a bit, still not turning back to look at him. "He's your pal and all, isn't he? You going to be there?"

His mouth goes dry again, but he nods and manages to get out an, "Of course."

She peeks over her shoulder. "Cool. I guess it's a date."

His heart starts so fast he thinks it might burst out of his chest. "Like - like a date date?"

Alice turns her head back without an answer but he catches the smile on her lips before she does.

A date.


End file.
